


Gaining Morgana's Approval

by Ladderofyears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Apparating (Harry Potter), Attracted Harry, Auror Harry Potter, Blind Date, Cat Lover Harry, Fade to Black, First Kiss, Getting to Know Each Other, Harry/Draco Owlpost Fest 2020, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Lawyer Draco Malfoy, Lonely Harry, M/M, Mentions of Harry/Original Ex-boyfriend (very brief & not explicit), Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Restaurants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Harry Potter wants romance. He gets it from the most unlikely blind date in all of Wizarding London.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 72
Collections: Harry/Draco Owlpost 2020





	Gaining Morgana's Approval

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keyflight790](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyflight790/gifts).



> A gift for the lovely keyflight790. 
> 
> I felt a little bit intimidated when the mods gave me your name, but I've strived to make something that I hope makes you smile. Have a lovely Christmas and I hope that you and all of your loved ones have a superb 2021.

Harry was grateful to have Hermione and Ron in his life. They always had a spare room free for when he’d drank a little too much Firewhisky, there was an open invite whenever he fancied a game of Magi-opoly and Ron’s Beef Wellington was mouthwatering.

A chap couldn’t have had better best-mates.

If there was a fly in the potion – and Harry had to concede that it was a small one – it was that he was rather envious of their coupledom. 

It wasn’t that Harry fancied either of them – Merlin, _no_ – but he only wished he had someone to share his life with too. A wizard _he_ could hold hands with and take on trips to the theatre. A chap he could make dinner for and ask after his day. All Harry wanted was a little bit of their happiness for himself. 

“There’s a man I know at the Wizengamot,” Hermione had said, when Harry had confessed his feelings of lonesomeness to her over dinner. “I think he’d be a good match for you. He’s close to your age, very intelligent and is a powerful wizard to boot. I’m going to set the pair of you up on a blind date.”

Harry hadn’t been sure about having a blind date – it all felt a little artificial and _curious_ – and he’d said as much to his best-friend. “What if we’ve got nothing in common?” Harry had asked, feeling half-impressed and half-annoyed with Hermione’s matter-of-fact approach to bettering his love life. “I always imagined I'd be swept off my feet. Eyes meeting across a crowded Ballroom. Rose petals and champagne.”

Hermione hadn’t been impressed with Harry’s arguments. “You haven’t managed any of those romantic clichés by yourself, Harry,” she’d answered with a frown. “Rose petals and champagne are worthless if you’re with the wrong fellow! You need to get out there and meet people. Love can’t flower if you don’t plant the seed.” Hermione had pushed her plate away and tucked a stray strand of wild hair back behind her ear. “Besides, this is just dinner! You don’t have to marry the man! You don’t even have to see him again unless you’d like to. The choice is yours.”

Harry had sipped his Pumpkin Juice and listened to his friend’s wise words. Hermione was correct of course, much the same as she was about most things in life. One date didn’t _have_ to lead to another, not if he didn’t want that to happen and Harry had decided to give his blind date a try. What was the harm? Even an awkward date would surely be better than another night sat on the Grimmauld Place settee watching the Muggle telly, eating slices of cold pizza and leafing through old issues of _Quidditch Today_. 

Truth was, Harry knew he was lonely. Somewhere along the line his gang had all met their soulmates and he’d been sat left on the shelf. 

Harry knew he had a lot to offer a potential boyfriend – he was a Auror, so he was pretty fit, and he didn’t think he was a total troll in the looks department either – but, for whatever reason, men weren’t pounding down his door. Harry wanted to be out there, enjoying his life. He wanted to meet people and maybe – if he were very lucky indeed – find the special somebody that he could share his life with. 

Despite Harry’s every good intention he’d begun to get really excited about his Friday night date as the week had passed. Hermione and he had taken a turn around Diagon Alley and together they’d picked an appealing new outfit together for him to wear – apparently his favourite comfy jeans and Weasley jumper combo wouldn’t pass muster! – and afterwards Harry had treated himself to a haircut as well. 

Harry wanted to make a good impression, on the off chance that this man was the one for him. Hermione had known him since he was eleven and Harry trusted the witch with his life. His best mate wouldn’t set him up with any random bloke. Harry was sure that whomever this mystery wizard was, he’d likely be a very exceptional person. 

Friday arrived quickly and Harry made sure to leave the DMLE an extra couple of hours early so that he could make the final preparations for his blind date. He _Accio’ed_ his coat and satchel before he made his way through the bustling Ministry Atrium. As he ambled along the busy thoroughfare Harry looked around, wondering if any of the wizards walking close to him was his blind date. He could be. The wizarding world was small and close-knit. There were very few faces that Harry didn’t recognise, at least in passing. Moreover, Harry couldn’t help but feel aflutter about the possibilities were everything to go well during his date. It had been several very long months since Harry’s breakup with his last boyfriend – a Spanish wizard named Julio – and Harry missed the company of other men keenly. 

As he neared the Apparation point Harry cast his eyes at all the couples moving around him. All were holding hands, laughing and seemed to be very much in love. That gave Harry real hope. If others could find love there was no reason Merlin wouldn’t grant him the same blessing. 

It didn’t take long before Harry materialised back into the Lounge at Grimmauld Place. His Persian cat, Morgana was waiting for him and looked up as he appeared in a haze of green sparkles. She purred happily as Harry swept her into his arms and nuzzled a greeting into her downy fur. Morgana was his most loyal companion and Harry carried her as he walked through into his Kitchen. There was still time for a cup of tea before he needed to put on the fancy new midnight-blue shirt and the formal trousers that he’d brought especially for his date. 

Mug in hand, Harry dropped down onto his settee. Morgana climbed onto his knee. 

“What do you think?” Harry asked his cat. “Do you think tonight will be special?” Harry laughed. He supposed he was talking to himself but Morgana’s blue eyes flicked upwards. She was definitely listening. “Let’s hope tonight’s fellow is a bit nicer than Julio! You never liked him, did you baby? I ought to have listened to you.”

Morgana had detested Julio on sight. His cat had a placid, unruffled temperament but she’d turned into a small Hungarian Horntail whenever Julio had stayed over, scratching, biting and hissing loudly. It had all been quite mortifying really. 

In the end, it had turned out that Morgana was entirely prescient with her behaviour. Julio had turned out to be a horrible person. Julio had been _very_ interested in Harry’s fame, his famous reputation and seeing his face on the cover of _The Prophet_. He’d been rather less interested in Harry the real person. Whenever Harry had needed him, Julio had been nowhere to be seen. 

When Harry had finally given Julio the big heave-ho everyone of his gang of friends had cheered and whooped with joy. Luna had suggested that all future beau be given the Morgana seal of approval. Seamus had even quipped that the cat had better taste in men than Harry did. The only problem was, Seamus had been right on the wand, both about Morgana _and_ his choices in boyfriends. 

Morgana had hated Blake, the wizard who’d tried to sell stories about him to the newspaper. 

Morgana had detested Phillipe, the wizard who’d tried to steal out of his Vault. 

Morgana had despised Jonathan, the wizard that had played away whenever he’d gotten the chance. They’d been losers and deadbeats, every last one of them. 

Harry smiled as he sipped his bergamot spiced tea. He’d have to see how Morgana reacted to Mr. Mystery when he arrived later on. Maybe that’d give him a good idea of whether it’d be worth persevering with him past their single night together. “I know you’re _supposed_ to wait for the second date,” Harry told Morgana, “but if I get a good feeling about this wizard I’m going to give him a snog at the end of the night. That much can’t hurt, can it baby?” Harry laughed. “Merlin, but I’m so bloody randy. I know how I'd like the evening to end. Not that it _can_ though – if he turned out to be a creep, then I’d end up on the front of the bloody _Prophet!_ – but a wizard can dream.” 

Harry’s thoughts turned wistful as he finished the last drops of his tea. Julio had been a git of massive proportions but Harry couldn’t help but miss the touches, caresses and lovemaking that came with being part of a relationship. 

Merlin, but Harry would very much enjoy a tumble under his bed-covers. 

Truth be told, it wasn’t just the tumble he wanted. 

Harry wanted romance. He wanted love. Like he’d told Hermione, he wanted rose petals and champagne. He wanted hand holding, candlelit dinners and cuddling on the settee. If all – or all! – of those things led to tumbling under the bed-covers then he wouldn’t be adverse to that part either. 

Harry sighed, placing his mug onto the wooden table with a small click. He stroked Morgana’s head, deep in thought. He’d learnt his lesson the hard way with Julio. There were very few men in wizarding London who were interested in plain old Harry Potter, Deputy Lead Auror. In Harry’s experience, all men wanted was Harry the hero. They fancied The Boy Who Lived, craved the glamour of being close to the Chosen One and adored his First Class Order of Merlin. 

Harry felt for sure that the real wizard – with his untidy hair, love of pineapple pizza and tendency to fall asleep at the drop of a hat – came as an inevitable disappointment to them all. 

“Hermione says that my mystery wizard won’t care about my name,” Harry told Morgana. “She said that he’s had enough problems of his own in that particular department.” He tickled the cat’s ears. “I don’t know what she means by that but I'm sure that I’ll find out during our date. I hope we have a good time,” Harry continued. “Perhaps I’m being foolish. I’ve built this date up too much already.”

With a quick flick of his wand Harry cast a _Tempus_ spell. He was surprised to realise that his daydreaming had used up more time than he’d meant it to. His blind date was due to arrive in less than three quarters of an hour. 

“Circe!” Harry said, with a shake of his head. “I’d better get going! He won’t be best impressed if he arrives to find me stinking of Floo powder, hexes and other people’s magic.”

Morgana watched Harry as he hurried about over the next half hour, doggedly making sure that he looked as good as he possibly could. He shaved, used an extra-potent spell to get his hair to sit tidily and even cleaned his teeth with a charm. 

By the time ten to seven finally rolled around, Harry was ready and raring to go. He paced around the Lounge anticipating the arrival of his mystery man. 

At seven in the dot the Floo chimed. 

A tall, statuesque man walked through into Harry’s room amongst a scorching cloud of Floo powder and slowly straightened up to a nearly six foot height. Harry’s first impressions were excellent. 

Hermione’s Wizengamot friend was slender, well dressed and radiated a warm and somehow _familiar_ magic. Harry felt a small thrill of attraction coast down his spine the moment his eyes moved onto the wizard’s face. 

Then recognition hit. Harry had been right. He _did_ know his blind date. Harry’s jaw dropped. It felt like a cup of icy water had drowned his good spirits. Harry decided that he’d be having grim words with Hermione Granger-Weasley when he saw her next.

His blind date – the wizard she’d assured him would be a thoroughly good match – was no other than Draco Malfoy. 

“Malfoy?” Harry said, locking eyes with his long-ago nemesis. It felt entirely bizarre to see Malfoy’s pointy face and white-blond hair stood inside his home. The two of them hadn’t spoken in several years, though they saw each other around Diagon Alley often enough. Harry had heard through the grapevine that the other wizard was some sort of Magi-Barrister, researching case law for the Ministerial Office. That must be how he’d come to be friends with Hermione. 

“I have to admit, of all the wizards in London I wasn’t expecting you to walk through my fireplace,” Harry said quietly. “I never anticipated this.”

Draco vanished the Floo powder from his robes with a speedy _Scourgify_. “I wasn’t sure whether to come,” Draco said, taking a step forward and quirking a small smile in Harry’s direction, “but when Hermione suggested that I take you out for dinner I couldn’t see the harm in it. If you’d like me to leave then I will do,” he continued, raising his palms in a gesture of openness. “But I’d hoped that we could talk – perhaps even have a good time – and maybe make a fresh start to things?”

Harry felt ambivalent. Draco and he had a long, tempestuous history. There’d been times when he’d hated the posh git and his aristocratic ways. Could he really forget their rows and their animosity? Harry wasn’t sure, not yet. He searched Draco’s face, looking for clues to the other wizard’s motivations. Was this some sort of trick? Was he out to take advantage? Harry didn’t think so. All he could see in Draco’s grey gaze was worry and nerves. 

The only fact Harry knew for sure was that he trusted Hermione, trusted her through and through. He loved Hermione more than any sister. She’d been insistent that he go on this blind date and she truly seemed to believe that Draco Malfoy could be the man for him. Her words skittered through his brain: _‘Love can’t flower if you don’t plant the seed.’_ Harry had spent years striving to move on from the War and trying to find inner peace. 

It was time to put his Galleons where his mouth was. “You don’t have to leave,” Harry said, pleased that his voice sounded firm and decisive. “I’ve been looking forward to this date all week. It’d be a pity to go back to jogging bottoms and lounging on the settee. We’re both adults. I’m sure we won’t have to resort to wands at dawn! Stay, please.”

Relief washed over Draco's features. “Wands at dawn? Merlin forbid,” he said. “I’m glad you'd like me to stay. I was hoping that you’d say that. I’ve booked us a table at a nice little Muggle place that I know really well.” Draco paused and he smiled, “But I’m rambling. You… Well, you look really good, Potter. You’re still the handsome wizard that I remember from Hogwarts.”

Harry felt his face heat at Draco’s words. It’d been a long while since anyone had courted him with such lovely manners. Impulsively, he held out his hand. “A new start it is then. I’m Harry Potter,” he said with a self-conscious grin. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Draco seized hold of Harry’s hand immediately and shook it warmly. His fingers enveloped Harry’s own and he felt a shiver of the other wizard’s delicious magic. “Draco Malfoy,” he replied with an amused, affectionate glint in his eyes. Harry found that he was a little unwilling to let Draco go. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“So,” Harry said, a shiver of lovely tension goose-bumping his skin, “this Muggle place? We’re booked for half past?”

“We certainly are,” Draco replied, “and if we leave now then we’ve time for a drink in the bar before we eat. You can tell me what you’ve been up to since we left school. I’ve followed your adventures in _The Prophet,_ Harry. That dragon egg smuggling thing was really brave. It was all over the newspaper covers for weeks.”

Harry felt his spirits drop as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of his coat. He really hadn’t wanted to play the hero persona tonight. “That mission was much more of a team effort,” Harry replied, checking the pocket for his wand and his wallet. “I didn’t have that much to do with anything. _The Prophet_ always sticks my name on the cover. It’s embarrassing really. The truth usually isn’t anything much like that fish-wrapper makes it out to be.”

Draco nodded his understanding. “I’ve been on the cover of that infernal paper a fair few times too,” he answered. “Truth be told, I’d rather talk about _you_ anyway. Your favourite music,” he suggested. “Who you imagine might win the Quidditch league this year. The kind of book that you like to read.” Draco grinned. “I spent seven years of school feeling covetous of the Boy Who Lived and his famous exploits. I’d quite like to meet the real man behind the myth. Get to know the real person. Not the Auror or the living legend.”

This _was_ a surprise. Harry’s dates were usually disappointed when he didn’t want to talk about the job and tell them gory tales about taking down the forces of dark magic. Harry couldn’t remember the last time any man had actually _wanted_ to get to know the real him. 

As they stood talking, Harry noticed that Morgana had arrived to make her judgement on Draco. Both wizards looked down to see the Persian wind her fluffy fur around the blond man’s boots. The normally aloof, judgemental creature mewed her approval of his date and Harry couldn’t help but think that was a good sign. 

“Care to Side-along with me?” Draco asked, hooking his arm in a gentlemanly manner. Harry agreed and held tightly to Draco’s bicep. The other wizard’s arm was all hard muscle beneath the smart wool and Harry felt a quiver of sensual arousal ripple through his body. 

As the two of them spun and vanished, Harry had only moments to wonder whether his racing pulse was simply the result of Draco’s intense magic or whether he was really _was_ in trouble.

~~

The Muggle restaurant Draco had picked was a little bijou place on the outskirts of Soho. 

It was sweet, intimate and Harry soon found he was enjoying himself immensely. 

Harry normally found first dates quite arduous but Draco made it easy. Any remaining awkwardness between them soon vanished. The blond wizard was full of entertaining, fond anecdotes about his friends and colleagues which had Harry laughing from the very first moment they sat down at their table.

It seemed to Harry that no time had passed before the two of them were enjoying their starters. Their conversation flowed as if they’d been friends for years rather than mere hours. 

Draco talked about his career at the Wizengamot with great feeling and it was obvious to Harry that he cared greatly about the work he was doing. It was Draco’s job to ensure that case law was applied equally between all wizards – whatever their blood status might be – and Harry couldn’t help but feel impressed. Draco was doing everything in his power to undo the damage wrought by the War. 

Draco’s table manners were immaculate, he was fascinating company and Harry felt dumbfounded by just how attracted he was to this new Draco Malfoy. Draco’s simple pleasure in Harry’s company was infectious. Harry caught himself following the quirk of his smile or the shape of his long fingers as they curled around his wine glass. 

Harry watched as Draco delicately sipped the excellent red wine. His lips were thin, and shapely, and he soon began to daydream about what it would feel like to have them entwined with his own. 

An involuntary shiver ran down Harry’s spine. Draco had always been excellent at everything that he’d set his mind to and Harry didn’t suppose that kissing would be an exception to the rule. What would it feel like to knot his hands in those silken blond locks of his and close the space between them? He’d taste wine-sweet and delectable. 

Best of all, Harry didn’t think the attraction was one-sided. Harry caught Draco’s eyes drifting over his hands and lips while he talked about his own life and interests and he was pleasantly enamoured by the pink blush that coloured Draco’s cheeks.

Harry bit back a grin. There was a conspicuous chemistry infusing the air between the two of them and Harry knew he wasn’t the only one who felt it. Perhaps that was the reason they’d always had such a blazing, passionate relationship as children? The line between hate and love could, after all, be splinter thin. 

Draco’s choice of restaurant had been an excellent one. The sharp suited waiters took their time bringing out their main courses but that only gave Draco and he plenty of space and time to enjoy each other’s company further. It was quite the sight to see Draco relishing every bite of his steak. Watching his date’s mouth close over his fork made Harry’s belly do small somersaults and Harry couldn’t help but hear - and enjoy! - the small sounds of pleasure that Draco was making. 

Harry fidgeted in his seat, his body reacting naturally to his strong physical attraction. He felt rather like a teenager, overwhelmed by a crush. 

“What have you got planned for your summer break?” Draco asked as the two of them neared the end of their scrumptious main course meals. 

Appreciating the distraction from his growing arousal, Harry answered Draco’s question. His plans included a trip to the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary to visit Charlie and so Harry dived into a description of the new hatchlings that he hoped to see while he was there. Dragonlore had been one of Harry’s passions ever since the Triwizard Tournament and Draco listened with genuine interest to his replies. The blond asked several thoughtful questions which almost made Harry forget about the thrill of attraction dancing through his veins. 

Almost, but not _quite_. 

Every few minutes, Draco would do something that only reinforced Harry’s randy reactions. Firstly, Draco let his fingertips stroke gently over the back of Harry’s hand. Then he ran a pink, darting tongue across his lips, leaving them slick and shiny.

By the time Harry was placing his knife and fork into the middle of his plate, Harry had come to a fateful decision. Come what may, he was going to kiss Draco Malfoy that very night. 

Circe, but those lips of his were enticing! Harry didn’t think that he’d ever sleep another wink if he didn’t snog the handsome Slytherin. There was a gleam in Draco’s grey eyes that told Harry his forays would most definitely be welcomed. 

The Muggle restaurant was famous for a sinfully decadent cheesecake which Draco insisted the pair of them order. Harry was easily persuaded; he’d had a dreadfully sweet tooth since his days at Hogwarts. The dessert was a thing of beauty, glistening with thick chocolate sauce and drizzled with thick cream. 

Draco dug in straight away. He loaded up his fork and groaned in sheer delight as he swallowed. Harry came very close to moaning in unison with him. He’d never once have imagined that the tightly-buttoned, aristocratic Draco of his youth would be as open and free with his pleasure as the man in front of him was. Their entire date had been nothing less than astounding.

“Harry Potter,” Draco uttered, his tone flirtatious and amused, “you’ve simply _got_ to try this. I wouldn’t be any sort of date if I didn’t insist upon it.”

Harry instinctively opened his mouth to accept Draco’s piled fork and their eyes locked at the very moment the indulgent dessert exploded across his palate. It was a sensual, sexy second in time and Harry could have sworn that he heard Draco whimper as he slowly tugged the metal prongs back from between Harry’s lips. 

Draco sat back in his chair, his green eyes shining and his mouth slack with desire. 

“Would you like any more?” Draco asked, his voice and honeyed. He cleared his throat with a discreet little cough. “There’s plenty left… I wouldn’t want you to think that I’d hogged the thing.”

Harry demurred. There was only one thing he really desired and it wasn’t the opulent pudding sat between them. “That was enough dessert for me,” he replied, dabbing the side of his lips with his serviette, “but thank you Draco. I’ve enjoyed my dinner. It’s been a lovely meal.”

It truly had been. Harry couldn’t remember the last time that he’d had the pleasure of such good company. Draco paid with a pile of colourful Muggle money, collected their coats and opened the door of the restaurant for Harry to step through. 

London was dark, but the pavements were illuminated by flickering florescent street lights. Draco and he were quiet as they walked along. It didn’t feel cumbersome though; it felt comfortable and companionable. The blond wizard warmed the pair of them with a discreet little charm and then took Harry’s hand, lightly linking their fingers as they strolled along. 

Harry sighed. He didn’t want their date to end. This blind date with Draco had been everything that he’d hoped it might be. Harry hadn’t ever once felt objectified or judged. He’d felt _seen_. He’d felt like he, alone, was finally enough. 

They were taking their time but Draco and he arrived at the Apparation point far faster than Harry would have liked. 

“Here we are,” Draco said, gesturing to a small twichel that led between a Dry Cleaners and some bland-looking office buildings. He gave their linked hands a squeeze. “It’s about halfway through there, Harry.”

The two of them walked into the secluded darkness. Harry’s heart was racing and his nerves were frayed and tingly. His mouth was dry and, when he spoke, there was a quiver to his voice “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a first date so much, Draco,” he said. “Everything about it – the restaurant, the food – it was perfect.”

Draco laughed, a lilting, happy sound. “I’m glad it all met your approval. I do have to admit that your friend Hermione was the one that made it all happen… I’ve wanted to court you for a long time, but I’ve never quite plucked up the courage. Granger is a very convincing witch. I’ve no doubt whatsoever that she’ll be Minister for Magic one of these days.”

Harry smiled his agreement. “She’s a good friend,” he agreed. “The very best.” Draco leaned in and Harry was more than willing to meet him halfway. Their eyes met and held, erotic tension coiling and spiralling around them both. “I was wondering if I might kiss you?” Harry asked, seizing his chance. “I’ve been half-dazzled by the vision of those lips of yours all evening. 

“I was hoping that you might say that,” Draco replied. “I’ve been half-dazzled by the sight of your lips since I was a teenager. I don’t want to rush this, Harry. I’ve wanted it for much too long.” 

Draco leaned in and met Harry’s mouth and their kiss was every bit as blissful as he had hoped. There was none of the clumsiness or bumbling that had characterised other first kisses. What Draco and he shared was an ardent, heated thing that felt natural and _real_. It felt to Harry that a part of Draco and he ought to have been kissing for the whole of their lives. 

Harry opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and let his tongue flicker against Draco’s plush lips while his thigh settled between the other wizard’s legs. Their bodies rocked against one another's and both tried to draw each other ever closer. This was everything that Harry had dreamt of. This kiss was everything that he had craved. Harry groaned as they finally pulled apart, the pair of them panting heavily and their chests heaving. Draco looked entirely gorgeous. His hair was dishevelled and his irises were dark in the shadowy half-light. “I think _that_ kiss answers the question of whether we’re having a second date or not,” Harry managed, his body thrumming with delight. 

“Mmm, I should go,” Draco said, pressing a dozen little kisses across Harry’s jaw as he spoke. “You don’t know what you do to me… What you’ve _always_ done to me, Harry Potter. You tell me the time and the place of that next date and I’ll be there-”

“ _Now_ ,” Harry said, the word leaving his mouth before he even had chance to draw a breath. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s back and pulled him in close. “I want to start our second date now. We’ve both of us waited long enough. Wasted too much time.”

It took only seconds for the pair of them to Apparate to Grimmauld Place. They landed on the bed in an undignified tumble of limbs. 

Morgana looked on, and placidly cleaned herself, entirely happy with tonights turn of events. Her beloved Harry was finally in the arms of somebody who deserved him. 

**~THE END~**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxxxx


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